


Storms and Blood (Reverb 2017!)

by eecmidford



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 12:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11532735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eecmidford/pseuds/eecmidford
Summary: Soul has lived most of his life haunted by vague memories of violent experimentation. Maka is a passionate soldier-in-training, determined to prove her strength. On a mission to uncover the illicit activities of the witch Medusa, they find both the secrets of Soul’s past and the uncomfortable truths behind the Grisha army they’ve lived to serve. (Grisha Trilogy AU)





	1. Chapter 1

Black.

Black room. Black chains. People in black coats with black hearts and silver blades. Black thoughts spilling over his head and black blood spilling out of his body. 

Their words come to him slowly and painfully, without comprehension or context, like garbled instructions shouted through the noise of battle. He hears “power,” “dark,” “blood,” and “blood” again. 

The word “blood” seems almost like a heartbeat; they repeat it so often. He hates it; he wants to scream at them to stop. If only his mouth would work. He still has a mouth, doesn’t he? He can’t tell. He can’t feel his arms, neck, feet, legs. He can’t feel the pain. He does feel the warm liquid darkness of the blood bathing his thin stomach. At least there’s that feeling to remind him he’s still alive. It won’t save him, but it’s a strange, dark comfort nonetheless. 

He screams, and the sound of his own voice warms him to the core as he fades at last from consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a dark summer, all deep greens, blues and blacks, dusted by silver mists and violet rainstorms. Autumn was looking to be no more cheerful, and Maka missed the bold orange and blue of her desert home as she sloshed through muddy leaf corpses on her way back to the fort. This was peasant weather—rough, dirty and uncomfortable—the likes of which she hadn’t had to deal with since boot camp. And besides the awful weather, her scouting operation for the day had gone terribly. Nearly twelve hours she had spent with mud, brambles and, of course, rain as her only companions, and she had not a shred of information to show for it. The rebels’ activities were as elusive as good weather.

“Well, look who it is,” said a familiar voice, coming from behind her. 

Maka sighed. “Hello, Soul.”

“What’s with the lackluster greeting? Aren’t you happy to see me after a long day?” He jogged to catch up with her, hands in his pockets, grinning his lopsided, sharp-toothed smile. 

“Not really. I just want to sleep,” she said, staring straight ahead so as not to look at his face. Once she looked into those crimson eyes, there would be no going back to reality for a few hours.

“Sleep,” Soul said blissfully. “A beautiful thing, yeah. Dreaming’s nice, too.”

“I guess,” said Maka. They were coming up to the barracks, thank goodness. Her body screamed for sleep, but truthfully she wasn’t much one for dreaming. Dreams were confusing enough when they weren’t terrifying, and a grisha’s daytime world rarely left space in the subconscious for anything other than nightmares. 

“Night, Albarn. Hey, maybe you’ll dream about me!” Soul called to her as she quickened her pace, longing to escape from his maddeningly confusing presence.

She didn’t like to think that such a frustrating person could be so…

Magnetic. 

 

It wasn’t home, but it was close enough. The room the young grisha girls shared was dark brown and cavernous, lined with hard, impersonal bunk beds. Kim Diehl was fast asleep, her pink hair rising and falling in a discordant rhythm as she mumbled through her nightmares. Kim’s girlfriend, Jackie, was stretching on the wooden floor.

“Aren’t you afraid you’re going to get splinters?” said Maka by way of greeting. 

“Aren’t you afraid of whatever that awful smell is?” Jackie retorted. “Oh, right, that’s you.”

Maka took a whiff of her shirt collar. It was rank. “Yeah, it’s been that kind of day,” she said. “I’d better shower.”

“I’ll say,” Jackie chortled. Her brusque tone had no effect on Maka—they were good friends, used to each other’s easily misunderstood personalities. 

In the shower, Maka found herself unable to muster the energy to do anything but stand still and let the prickling hot water lick at the dirt and cuts on her body. She ran a hand over her stomach…were those ab muscles or ribs? She couldn’t wait to return to the Little Palace and eat a full meal. 

She was so tired that the screams and shots failed to rouse her from her reverie at first. Jackie and Kim screamed and rummaged frantically and loudly for supplies. One of them pounded on the bathroom door, and Maka just stood there, soap mixing with filth around her feet. 

Suddenly, it all came crashing in and she started into motion. She was tugging on her uniform, jamming her blistered feet into boots, grabbing her scythe and running in a wet, famished daze after the others all in barely a moment. 

“Everybody listen!” boomed Commander Mosquito. “There’s a rebel militia out there. They’re small, only about twenty in number, but very powerful from what we’ve seen. I want Albarn, Diehl, Dupree and Rung out front. Keep them at bay for as long as you can. Evans, you’re with me. Everyone else, just make sure the barracks don’t get blown up.”

Make did an automatic double take when she saw Soul, then immediately flushed when she realized what she’d just done. Lives were at stake here, and she was actually letting herself get distracted by that sarcastic heartrender?

“Come on, Maka!” Jackie called, somersaulting into her weapon form. Kilik’s weapons, twins known only as “Fire” and “Thunder” were also transformed into gigantic fists nearly the size of their meister’s body. Make looked her battered scythe up and down and cringed. She wanted a souleater to be her weapon—the grisha that partnered with them had such an advantage over others. But now wasn’t the time to despair over her low-quality weaponry: she was surrounded by explosion; her friends and teammates were in danger, and so was she. 

The first rebel Maka encountered was an inferni; a shorter boy with bright blue hair and frightening muscles. “Welcome to my big show, Palace brat!” he shouted, flinging a blaze of fire in her direction. Just in time, Maka deflected the deadly flames far into the sky, where they extinguished harmlessly. She readied herself to retaliate, but the blue-haired boy had already disappeared across the field. Tidemaker water having frozen after contact with squaller wind, the ground was now slippery with muddy snow.

“Albarn, what the hell? He was right in front of you!” Commander Mosquito growled. “Have you forgotten everything you’ve learned in your training? I oughta—“ In the next second, he was thrown backward by a hulking figure. 

“NO!” screamed Maka and Kilik together, just before they too were sent flying into the mud.

Maka scrambled to her feet, her head throbbing. Through the blurry pain, she saw Soul run at the same huge man, his fingers stretched and glowing with his heartrender powers. The man drew a knife, and in a single flash of silver Soul was on the ground, dripping tar.

Or was it his blood? Black blood?


	3. Chapter 3

By the time Maka woke up in the medical tent, the entire Grisha army knew about Soul. His blood, black as night, had taken a life of its own to fight and beat back the rebel army. 

“His blood defeated them,” Maka said, raising an eyebrow.

“It sounds crazy, but it’s true! We all watched it happen!” said Kim. “All the little droplets turned into knives—“

“—More like bullets,” interjected Jackie.

“—And they just went to town! It was brutal, but amazing,” Kim finished. “And don’t worry about Soul, they’re sewing him up right now and Nygus says he’ll be just fine.”

“But this has to change his status, right?” said Maka. “Whatever this blood thing is, it certainly doesn’t sound like a normal heartrender’s ability.”

“Actually,” Jackie leaned closer to speak in a hushed voice, her dark eyes darting nervously to the side, “I’ve heard they’re angry up at the Palace. It seems that they knew about Soul’s blood, but…you know…wanted to hide it.”

A chill ran up Maka’s spine. She recalled hearing of grisha children who would disappear for a length of time, sometimes never to return. If they did come back, they were often…different. One boy, Asura, was so affected by his experience that he became a monster and had to be put to death. Almost twenty years later, his story still frightened the younger grisha. 

“Let’s see how you’re doing, Maka,” said Nygus, coming into the tent. Jackie and Kim jumped backward with sheepish expressions. 

The nurse took Maka’s pulse and blood pressure, and deemed her well enough to leave the tent in an hour or so. 

“Oh, and I’m to tell you to report directly to Commander Mosquito when you leave,” she said on her way out. 

“Commander Mosquito? Why would he want me?” said Maka.

“Maybe a promotion!” said Kim.

“But why would he promote me? I got myself knocked out five minutes into battle…”

 

Commander Mosquito’s office looked like a medieval fortress. Its austere stone walls were lit with an eerie reddish light coming from the many kishin souls displayed like trophies behind glass. The Commander himself, a wiry old man with a long nose and surprisingly formidable powers, was almost dwarfed by his dark wooden desk. A sickening purple bruise darkened the edges of his face where he had been hit earlier, but he hardly seemed to notice the pain as he beckoned for Maka to sit. 

“Evans will be here soon, so just sit tight,” he said. “Don’t look like that, you’re not in any trouble.”

Maka forced her face into a tight smile. Evans? she thought. Why would I be called in for a meeting with Soul all of a sudden?

The door creaked open, and a nurse ushered Soul inside. The healers had done a great job on his wounds—not a scratch was visible on his body. 

“What’s up, Commander?” he said, hands in pockets. “Oh. Hey, Albarn.”

“Have a seat, Evans,” Commander Mosquito said. “You two, I have a special assignment for you.”

Maka’s spine straightened. “For us?”

“For me?” said Soul. 

“Don’t act so surprised,” the old man continued. “You’re both very talented soldiers. Miss Albarn receives top scores annually for her work, and Mr. Evans, you’ve been up and coming for a while now. Your fighting last night was not only selfless, it saved many lives. 

“This particular assignment is…sensitive. I don’t want either of you discussing it with other grisha, under any circumstances. Understand?”

They nodded.

“There’s a woman called Medusa. You may remember her as a former nurse and grisha soldier. Years ago, she was revealed as a witch and left our ranks, and has since been doing suspicious work in the forest just outside the border. Your job is to investigate; to find out what exactly it is she’s doing.”

Maka did remember Medusa. She had seemed nice, though Maka was only five or six when she left. She vaguely recalled being fascinated by some strange tattoos on the nurse’s arms. 

“You got it, boss,” Soul said. “Do we start now?” He rose, hands still in his pockets, and set his face in a carefree smirk.

“Of course not, Soul,” Maka snapped. “It’s still daytime, to begin with—we’ll be too easy to spot. We’ll also need special supplies, right, Commander?”

“Just your abilities and your wits,” he replied. “You’re right about daytime being dangerous, though, Maka. Begin tonight after dark. I’ll have Giriko lead you to the border, and then you’re on your own.”

On your own. The words filled Maka with a mix of terror and excitement. She’d never been on a top-secret assignment before, and never on her own…if it weren’t such a dangerous task, it would be a dream come true.


	4. Chapter 4

The scent of autumn was draped over the world that night, even as the forest still kept the deep green melancholy of late summer. Maka and Soul met Giriko behind the barracks just as the sun was setting, and the pink and gold tapestry of the sky looked like flames reflected on the stone building. 

“I’ve got orders to lead you to the border only. After that, it’s all you,” Giriko said. 

“Just get us there,” said Maka. “That’s all that matters. We can handle a simple surveillance task just fine.”

“Right,” Giriko said, glancing between the two of them. “C’mon.” He strode off ahead of them into the trees. 

The sun didn’t take long to disappear after that, and eventually even the newly risen moon was gone from sight as the trees grew closer and darker. The forest was different without the rest of the army around her, Maka thought. It was like a cathedral, or an ancient underground temple. She felt it watching her, judging her and the others for invading its hallowed nighttime solitude. 

“We’re here,” Giriko finally said, stopping them in a wide clearing. About half a mile ahead, faint dots of white moonlight could be seen—the forest’s edge. 

“Right. So, we just…hunt around till we find a secret lair? Cool,” Soul said. 

“Do whatever you need to find Medusa,” Giriko replied. “My work here is done, so I’m off. Good luck.”

He disappeared back into the thick woods, and Maka suddenly felt terribly nervous. She didn’t know how to find a witch’s lair—did she root around on her hands and knees and hunt for a trapdoor? Recite an incantation into a hollow tree trunk and mark it with her blood? 

“Found it,” said Soul. He was standing between a thick tree root and an overturned stone. Where the stone had been, there was a hole about the width of a cannon.

Maka’s shock must have shown on her face, because he laughed and said, “Thinking twice about underestimating me, huh, pigtails?”

She flushed. “I wasn’t underestimating you. I just…didn’t expect you to find the entrance so quickly.”

“Well, technically we can’t be sure it’s the entrance. It’s definitely the entrance to something, though. C’mere and look.” He beckoned her over, and they looked together into the seemingly endless black of the hole. There was a staircase, but it was cracked and overgrown, and only the first three steps could be seen in the darkness. 

Maka nodded. “Excellent. Let’s go.”

“Sure thing. Want to go in first? Oh yes, of course you do.” Soul grabbed her shoulders playfully and set her on the first step. 

“Of course,” Maka said. Allowing herself one last glance at the outside world—the dark forest suddenly seemed warm and inviting—she breathed deeply and plunged into the hole. 

Chapter 4

The decreptitude of the winding staircase was short-lived. In about ten paces the hole widened into a meticulously kept cavern, and the steps became shiny and decorated with intricate drawings of animals, battles and ritual sacrifices. There was a railing as well, and wall sconces made of what Maka hoped were not real animal skulls. 

“It’s creepy all right, but at least we can see,” Soul whispered. 

“Yeah, but what are we going to do about our shadows?” said Maka.

“Just be real careful, I guess.”

A sickening scream broke the silence in the cave, coupled with a guttural roaring and clattering. Maka instinctively crouched, as if the stair railing and flickering shadows from the torchlight would protect her. Soul leaned over the rail and peered ahead. Maka hissed his name.

“Get back!”

“Maka, it can’t even know we’re here. I can barely see its shadow down that corridor—and the ruckus it’s making will cover up any noise we make.”

Of course, he had a point. Maka felt the heat of embarrassment for how stupid and cowardly she must have looked. She stood up haughtily and pulled her scythe from her rucksack. “Do you have your weapon?” she asked Soul.

He winked. “Heartrender, remember? I don’t need a weapon.”

Maka clutched her weapon tighter. She was a powerful squaller, but without much wind in the cave her grisha abilities would be more difficult to summon. Luckily, she was deadly with a scythe. She threw an annoyed look in Soul’s direction and continued gingerly down the stairs.

The screams and roars grew louder and more terrible as Soul and Maka descended the last of the steps. They could see further down the corridor now, to a round chamber wherein the shadows of enormous wings beat against the backdrop of a roaring fire. 

“I think we’ve found that ‘suspicious work’ Mosquito was talking about,” Soul said. “Damn. Any way we can get our info without fighting that thing?”

“Not likely,” said Maka, brandishing her scythe. She crouched in the shadows just around the corner from the room, motioning for Soul to do the same. “I’ll go in first and try to do some initial damage; once it’s weakened and distracted enough, you come in and do whatever Heartrender technique you need to.”

“Any reason why I shouldn’t be the one going in first?” Soul said. “I can kill things like…well, whatever that is just by looking at it and summoning my skills. I can puncture its heart with its ribs before it even has time to pounce. Really, you should be the backup.”

“It isn’t a competition, Soul,” Maka said though gritted teeth. “We haven’t even seen this monster yet. All we know is that it has wings—for all you know, it could have five hearts and sixteen sets of lungs, and your ‘puncturing’ would just make it angry.”

“Oh, so we’re writing a fairy tale now? Cute. You know, you—“ Soul started before Maka cut him off, seething, and leapt into the room.

The first thing that hit her was the sheer brightness of the fire. Maka shielded her eyes, exclaiming in frustration. She shook her head and forced herself to look straight at her opponent, eyes watering. 

A child, no more than a year or two younger than her, stood across the room. They had choppy pink hair, wide, sad eyes and a rake-thin body draped in black. It was ironic the way Maka’s gaze was drawn to the child first, when what rose above their head was about the most hellish creature she’d ever seen. 

It nearly reached the domed ceiling: a pillar of pure black muscle with wings that snaked around the walls and fanned the flames with dangerous vigor. It screamed upon seeing Maka, and its voice seemed loud enough to split open the ceiling. A child sharing a body with a monster…this must be the witch Medusa’s work. 

“What are you doing here?” the child said, their voice monotone. “Lady Medusa never brings people to see me.” 

“What are you doing here?” Maka countered, crouching defensively, scythe at the ready. “Or, I should ask, what are you?”

“Hey, Ragnarok?” said the pink-haired child, this time addressing the black monster. “Should we take her soul even though we don’t have permission?”

Ragnarok grinned, his giant white teeth a gruesome contrast against his dark body. “Kupi,” he said, before letting out a second scream, this one easily twice as powerful as the first. Maka felt herself thrown to the floor, unconscious to everything except the feeling of Ragnarok’s scream tearing at her ears. When at last it ended, she was drenched in sweat and impossibly tired. She felt as though she’d been through a full battle already.

“Maka!” Soul cried, appearing in the arched doorway. He too looked affected by the scream, his face pale and his eyes wild. “What the hell was that?” His eyes widened as they took in the sight of Ragnarok and the child. 

“I don’t know,” Maka said, trembling to her feet, “but we need to stop it.” 

“Crona!” Ragnarok barked. “Am I going to get to eat their souls or not?!”

Crona stared blankly at Soul, glanced back to Maka, and blinked. “Yeah, okay. Ragnarok, transform.”

In a flash, Ragnarok melted into his weapon form: a thick, black sword, easily half the length of Crona’s body. 

“Don’t be mad,” Crona said, tiptoeing toward Maka and swinging Ragnarok in erratic circles. “I just want your soul so Ragnarok can be a kishin. You get it, right?”

“No, I freaking don’t!” Maka shouted, striking with her scythe. Her blade collided with Ragnarok, and the two opponents pushed against each other, muscles trembling with effort. At last she overcame Crona and was able to reach through their black-clad arms to stab at their abdomen.

Clang. Instead of soft flesh, it seemed that she’d hit steel. Crona’s body was hard.

“What the—“ she exclaimed, backing up frantically, every nerve in her body exploding with panic.

Crona cocked their head, eyes large and vacant. “Oh, right,” they said, “my blood is black. I guess it isn’t really a fair fight if I don’t tell you that first…”

“Screw ‘fair!’ Let’s pummel ‘em, Crona! What’re you waiting for?” Ragnarok roared. “Do you want me to draw obscene cartoons on your face again?”

“No, please! The last time I had obscene cartoons on my face, I couldn’t wash them off and Lady Medusa yelled at me! I can’t deal with being yelled at or having obscene cartoons on my face! Don’t do it!” Crona cried. 

Maka shot a pleading look toward Soul. This was no time for friendly competition—if he had anything up his sleeve, anything at all that could help save their souls, now was the time to try it. 

Soul caught her eye and nodded in understanding. Closing his eyes and tensing his muscles, he summoned his Heartrender skills. The power seemed to build out from his core; a low, dark glow that soon came to envelop his entire form. 

Crona began to scream, clutching their head and writhing until they crumbled to the floor. Ragnarok transformed back to his bodily form and pounded at them with his boulder-sized fists.

“C’mon, Crona, get up! Stop being a baby and finish these guys off!” he roared.

“I..I..aaaah!” Crona trailed off into an agonized scream.

“Soul, what are you doing?” Maka yelled.

“I’m sending all of Crona’s black blood rushing to their head. They should be weak enough after this that we can ask them for information on Medusa without them trying to kill us.”

Squirming against the stone floor, Crona suddenly looked so vulnerable. “Are you sure about this, Soul?” Maka said. “It seems like you’re torturing them!” 

At this realization, Soul gritted his teeth and nodded, relaxing his hands. Crona’s screaming died off with the motion and they lay on the ground in silence, tears still flowing, resignedly allowing Ragnarok to continue his abuse. Maka tentatively set her scythe on the floor and made her way to crouch at their side.

“Crona?” she said. 

Their eyes opened and they gaped at her as though seeing another person for the first time. 

“Crona, I’m sorry Soul and I attacked you,” Maka said. “You were just following orders, right? Doing what Medusa wanted you to?”

Crona nodded sadly, another stray tear escaping.

Maka reached out a hand and pulled them to their feet. “What are you waiting for, then?” she said, smiling. “Let us help you. You can get out of here and be free!”

“Don’t listen to her, Crona!” Ragnarok roared. He grabbed their cheeks and tugged ruthlessly from side to side. “Come on, I want their nice, big, juicy souls! They’re so close, Crona, let’s just kill ‘em already!”

“I…uh…uhm…” Crona stammered, allowing themselves to be whipped back and forth like a rag doll. “I…I’ve had ENOUGH!”

All of a sudden the tables turned, and it was Crona pummeling Ragnarok. They were little match for him, of course, but the ferocity of their attacks was as inspiring as it was baffling, and over the course of a mere minute or so, Soul and Maka watched the gigantic black demon diminish into a dog-sized—and undeniably cute—version of himself. Still situated between Crona’s shoulderblades, he created the illusion of a large hunchback. 

Crona dropped to the ground once again, breathless. “Sorry you had to see that,” they said, looking up at Maka.

“Why on earth would you apologize?” Maka said. “That was totally awesome!”

“Crona, dear!” came the faint cry of a woman’s voice. 

Crona stiffened. “Lady Medusa!” they quivered.

Maka instinctively grabbed their wrist. “We have to get out of here!” she hissed. “Can we get out through that door over there?”

“Uh…uh…uh…” they stammered.

“Of course not, you idiot!” said Ragnarok. “That’s Medusa’s lair!”

But Soul was already darting around them, tugging on the door. “It’s locked!”

“I can remedy that.” With a running start, Maka hacked open the door with her scythe. 

“She’ll have definitely heard that,” said Soul. “Crona, lead the way.”

Crona’s eyes flicked nervously back and forth. Behind them, Medusa’s footsteps could be heard descending the long staircase. “Crona!” she called in a singsong voice that left goosebumps along Maka’s skin.

Maka grabbed them by the hand and pulled them through the hole in the doorway. Medusa’s lair was dark in comparison to the other room. A single candle burned in front of an elaborate witch’s circle on the far wall, and smaller blue and silver lights lit jars filled with various deformed specimen. 

Soul shivered as he led the way through the room. “Well, this is unpleasant. Good thing the exit is easy to find.” He nodded toward the candlelit circle. Next to it was an open doorway leading into complete darkness. 

Maka scanned the room, her gaze landing on a thick book lying in the glow of the dripping candle. She strapped her scythe to her back, grabbed the book, and led them hastily through the doorway.


	5. Chapter 5

They found themselves in dank, muddy tunnel. It was pitch-black, and they all stumbled as they ran as fast as they could, Maka leading the way and running the journal along the wall so as not to get lost. Medusa was still far behind them, cursing and screaming Crona’s name as she realized what had happened. She was fast, though, and would be catching up quickly. 

They finally exploded into the outdoors, the cold early morning air attacking Maka’s lungs. She scanned the scene frantically for a place to hide. Medusa’s lair had apparently been inside of a mountain, as the tunnel had led them out through a small cave in its side. The mountain loomed around them, blocking the sunrise and rendering the area pitch black. 

A strong wind blew past, and Maka seized her chance—summoning her Squaller powers from within, she gathered the wind around the three of them and froze it in place to create a forcefield of air. She was just in time, too. Medusa emerged from the mountainside just as the barrier locked into place. 

Her expression of total rage switched immediately to one of tearful relief. “Crona, my darling!” she cried, holding her arms out and stepping toward them. 

Crona whimpered and clutched Maka’s hand.

“Crona, come back to me, please? Come back to Mother!” Now that Medusa had come closer, Maka could plainly see that her face was as dry as the rocks behind her. 

“They’re not coming back,” Maka said, “right, Crona?”

Crona stared at the ground.

“What is this all about, Crona?” Medusa said, false tears suddenly gone. “I trusted you and Ragnarok alone for a very short amount of time, and I come back to this? You don’t even know these people!”

“Then allow us to introduce ourselves,” Maka said. “I’m Maka Albarn and this is Soul Eater Evans. We’re grisha, and we know exactly what you’ve been up to down in that cave.”

“Well, not exactly what she’s been up to,” Soul cut in. “But seeing Crona and Ragnarok here, we kind of got the gist.”

“Experimenting on your own child? That’s the most twisted thing I’ve ever heard of,” Maka said. 

Medusa’s face twisted into a sinister smile. “Well, then,” she said, “what are you going to do about it? Crona will come back to me eventually, and he and I will make you pay dearly.”

“Oh, really?” said Maka. “Even though I have hard evidence against you?” She held up the journal. Her heart pounded—it was a dangerous bluff, as she didn’t know what the book was or what kind of words it hid inside. She had grabbed it on instinct, on the off-chance that it could provide more information about how black-blooded “experiments” like Crona and Soul had come to be. 

Medusa sneered. She reached out to try and grab the book, but Maka’s barrier of air pushed her backwards. Taking advantage of her moment of confusion and surprise, they ran. In the dark, the Cliffside snuck up on them, and just as Maka looked over her shoulder to make sure Medusa was still down, they tripped over its side and fell. 

Crona screamed. Soul and Ragnarok cursed in unison. Maka was too shocked to do either: she stared up at the sky, at the silvery-gray clouds hovering around them, and relaxed into the rushing wind. She smiled. Squallers didn’t die of falling. She locked the wind into another barrier to cushion them from beneath, changing their fall to a slow descent. 

“Damn, Maka,” said Soul, wiping sweat from his forehead. “We’re lucky you’re here.”

They sat up shakily and stared at one another in silence. The immediate danger was over, at least for now, and none of them were sure what to say. 

“I-is Lady Medusa gone?” Crona managed to say.

“Seems like it,” said Soul. “See how far away we are?” He pointed up at the cliffside from which they’d fallen. “She may be a witch, but she doesn’t have superpowers like our squaller here.” He punched Maka lightly on the shoulder. 

“Well? Are you two going to apologize or not?” Ragnarok cut in. “You made Crona beat me up for no good reason! And now we’re floating down a mountain in the middle of nowhere! Medusa may be a meanie, but at least she never whisked us off on any unwanted adventures! Right, Crona?”

“No, Ragnarok,” Crona said. “Lady Medusa isn’t in charge of us anymore. We should thank Soul and Maka for saving us.”

“Can we thank them by taking their souls?”

“NO,” all three of them replied. 

“So what exactly was she doing to you?” Soul asked. “Why does Ragnarok stick out of your body like that?—no offense.”

Crona shook their head. “I don’t know. Ragnarok has always been here. I think it’s because of my blood, but I’m not sure…the only other people I’ve ever talked to were the people we had to kill—“ they shuddered and looked down in shame— “and they all had red blood.”

“I have black blood,” Soul said.

Crona’s eyes widened. “You do?”

“I don’t know why, or how, but I think it happened about three years ago. That’s when I started having nightmares that seemed so real they had to be memories.”

“Nightmares?” said Maka.

“Yeah. It’s…” Soul said, his face darkening. “It always starts out pitch black, and then this really bright light comes on above me. I’m chained up. Then someone starts…” He took a deep breath. “…Carving up my insides with a knife.”

“Sounds like some kind of perverted version of a surgeon’s operating room,” said Maka. 

“Yeah, sort of,” said Soul. “And the scary thing is, I don’t have any solid memories from before then. I know I was trained as a grisha from a young age, but all the details…friends, family, even foods I liked…they were just gone, replaced with that dream.”

Crona nodded. “I hear screaming…all the time, even in my head. I don’t know what my mother does to people exactly, but it’s terrible.” 

“This journal may help us find out,” Maka said. “It was right near her witch’s circle, so I figured that it must be important to her.” She rubbed the leather cover, spine crawling. Shaking off the feeling of foreboding, she began to read aloud from the first page. 

“December 3, 1764: Experiment a failure. Black blood is alive and acts independently of Crona, though it is wonderfully vicious. This wouldn’t bother me, of course, except that it overpowers Crona and makes him weak and fearful. Whatever I do to try and fix him, it won’t do a thing—the child simply refuses to kill any living creature, even that idiotic tiny dragon I captured and brought in.”

“Whoa,” said Soul. “Maka, maybe you shouldn’t read this out loud in front of Crona.”

“No,” said Crona, “I need to know. I’ve let Lady Medusa hurt me over and over again. I want to know why she made me like this.”

Maka nodded, put a hand on top of Crona’s, and continued reading:

“March 19, 1765: SUCCESS. Black blood permanently implanted within young white-haired grisha boy. Unfortunately, he shows no sign of becoming a Kishin…but undoubtedly Stage 1 of the project can be done.”

Soul stiffened. 

They were about a mile or so from the ground now. Maka continued to read of Medusa’s experiments over the years—creating Kishin by implanting black blood into humans. The last journal entry was from the previous Tuesday:

Crona and Ragnarok may not have turned out quite the way I wanted them to, but over the years I think I’ve learned to make the most of this unfortunate situation. I soon hope to be able to send them out into the world, to gather souls and help me create the ultimate black-blooded Kishin.

As she read these last words, they finally settled on the ground, sore and speechless.


	6. Chapter 6

No one spoke. Maka wanted to comfort Crona, but what could she possibly say? What did it feel like to discover that their own parent had been using them as an experiment…and supposedly a failed one at that?

Soul buried his face in his hands. “Damn,” he said softly. 

Maka stood and looked around. Stretching out from the cliffside was a vast moor, all green and gray and desolate, with a grim castle ruin decorating the horizon. 

“Over there,” she said. “We’ll sleep there. It’s getting light out, and we’ll need to hide from Medusa.”

 

On the crumbling tower of the same castle, two girls kept a lazy watch on the moor. 

“Hey,” said the older one, “I think I just saw some people float down from that mountain. Am I really that sleep deprived?”

“No,” said the younger, “you just had too much of that weird drink the boys made us last night.” She giggled. “You took off your pants and did bird impressions. It was funny!”

The older girl flushed. “What?! That’s a lie!” She quickly ran her hands along her waistline, though, just to make certain she was fully clothed.

“Whoaaa! You might be right, sis!” said the younger girl, leaning precariously over the wall and peering at the three figures near the mountain. “I see some people way over there! And look, two of them are soldiers!”

“What? Oh, damn it. I’m too sleepy to go into battle just now…”

“Sleep, schmeep! C’mon, we’ve gotta go tell the others!” 

They bounded down the winding tower steps, the younger girl dragging her reluctant sister by the hand.

“Liz! Patty! You’re supposed to be on lookout duty! said a dark-haired boy with striped hair.

“Soldiers, Kid!” Patty—the younger—cried. “Coming up to the castle right now! Two of them! And a third person who has really cool hair!”

“What?” growled a blue-haired boy with a star tattoo. “Well, what are we waiting for! Everyone, into weapon form! Let’s get ready to fight these guys off!”

“It shouldn’t be a difficult battle,” Liz said. “From the little I saw of them, they looked pretty worn out.”

Kid, the boy with the striped hair, went to peer out the window of the Great Hall. His face tightened with deep thought. “She’s right,” he said. “Their uniforms are a mess, and the pink-haired one looks about to collapse from fatigue.”

“Are you suggesting that we take pity on them?” the blue-haired boy said. 

“Think about it, Black*Star—we could offer them a place to sleep without them knowing we’re rebels.”

“That’s true,” said a tall girl standing next to Black*Star. “I’ll go and fetch them. What’s a little white lie when it’s told to help others?”

—

It started to rain as they headed toward the castle. The drops were soft and teasing at first, but before long Maka’s uniform was soaked through to the skin. The castle was grim, desolate, and likely vermin-infested, but in this weather it seemed to Maka like the most welcoming place in the world.

A girl appeared in the front doorway, startling all three of them. “Hello! Are you lost?” she called. She looked a bit older than them, and was tall, lean, and dark-haired. 

“Well…I suppose we are, in a way,” Maka said. “We were just coming to see if we could get some sleep here. We’ve been up all night, traveling.”

The girl smiled. “My friends and I would be happy to give you a place to sleep! My name’s Tusbaki, by the way.”

“Maka. This is Soul, Crona and Ragnarok,” she said as they followed her inside. 

Tsubaki and her friends, whoever they were, seemed to have been living there for a good while—enough time to make the castle a surprisingly clean place. The stone floor was covered in fresh-smelling hay, the torches around the walls were lit, giving the room a soft glow, and, strangely enough, everything was arranged in perfect symmetry. Maka wouldn’t notice all of this until later, though—her eyes were drawn immediately to the blue-haired who moved through the doorway to stand next to Tsubaki. 

There was no mistaking him—he was the rebel inferni that she had fought at the barracks.


	7. Chapter 7

“You!” Maka cried in panic, instinctively pulling her scythe from her back.

The boy stared at her. 

“Uh, Maka?” said Soul. “Do you know him?”

“Know him? He nearly killed me yesterday with a fireball! Soul, this is the rebel militia that attacked the barracks!”

Soul’s brow furrowed. “Rebels? Why would people with grisha powers fight against the army?”

“See, Kid? I said it would be a mistake to let them in, and I was right!” the inferni said to the boy next to him. 

“Quiet, Black*Star,” said Kid. “Palace grisha live cozy and protected lives starting from early childhood,” he explained to Soul. “They’re raised to feel that they deserve every privilege they are given, by the flawed logic that the universe granted it to them in the form of special powers. It doesn’t make them bad people necessarily, because they are taught to believe this after all, but it does make our system of government terribly flawed.”

“It’s dangerous not to be a palace-trained grisha,” said Black*Star. “Luckily, we all learned this in time, and split from the forces before they could brainwash us. We’ve been living out here pretty peacefully ever since, though we do have to ‘silence’ the occasional grisha who finds us out.”

“S-s-silence?!” said Crona, eyes widening in horror.

“Oh, we don’t physically harm them,” said Kid, “unless we need to. Usually we threaten them a bit so that they’ll keep quiet about us and this castle. I hope we don’t have to do the same to you.”

Maka gripped her scythe. “We may be palace-trained grisha,” she said, struggling to keep her voice calm, “but we’re not here as a threat to you, I swear. There’s a witch after us, and we need a safe place to sleep, just until it gets dark again.”

The two boys looked at each other, then back at Tsubaki, who gave them a steely nod. “Fine,” Black*Star said grudgingly. “But we’ll be watching your every move.”

—

They slept until evening, and shared the rebels’ dinner at Tsubaki’s insistence. It was heavenly to finally eat. Had it really only been less than twenty-four hours since their mission to Medusa’s lair began? Soul lay back on the hay, hands behind his head, in a contented post-meal stupor. Crona was working on their fourth piece of turkey, devouring it like they had never tasted anything so satisfying before. This was probably the case, Maka thought, eyeing their impossibly skinny form. 

Liz and Patty were back on watch, and Black*Star and Tsubaki were outside running drills. During dinner, Maka and the others had learned that Tsubaki, Liz and Patty were all souleaters—Tusbaki was Black*Star’s shape-shifting Dark Arm, and Liz and Patty were handguns. To her surprise, she had learned that he too was a souleater, though had never had the chance to partner with another grisha for fear of them discovering his black blood.

“If you haven’t noticed already, I’m not remotely comfortable with the three of you being here,” Kid said once he was alone with the newcomers. “I still don’t trust you, especially with the sort of questions you’ve been asking us. But I’m going to put my personal suspicions aside for a moment to ask you a question of my own: who is this witch, and what exactly does she want from you? It’s important that I know, as my friends and I have a certain…unpleasant history with witches.”

Maka opened her mouth to explain, but surprisingly Crona beat her to it, even as their eyes shone bright with unshed tears and their voice wobbled. “Her name’s Medusa,” they said. “She’s my mother, but she never acted like one. She made Ragnarok by taking out my blood and replacing it with black blood. It was meant to give me special powers, but instead it turned me into a monster.” 

“Monster,” Ragnarok grumbled indignantly.

Kid nodded. “That sounds about right. My father knew Medusa Gorgon, and her sister Arachne, another witch.”

“Arachne is a witch?” Soul said. “But she’s head of all the grisha forces!”

Kid nodded. “You’d never know, would you, from what you hear about your wise, brave, gifted grisha leaders? Arachne is a witch, all right, and I’ll wager that so are a lot of the soldiers; they’re just hiding incognito within those barracks. Anyway, my father was in training with the Gorgon sisters, he as a summoner and the sisters as heartrenders. Of course, their ‘powers’ were all faked using magic.”

“Witches can do that?” Maka exclaimed.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Kid replied. “It’s just one more reason why the grisha army can’t be trusted. My father was the one to uncover their black blood experiments, and they fled for fear of being put to death.”

“And that’s when your father decided to leave the army?” said Soul.

“It was a little while after that, actually. Arachne was caught and brought back to the barracks. Father expected that she would be brought to justice, as she deserved, but instead she was promoted to head of the grisha.”

“So he suspected a conspiracy,” Maka said. She gripped Crona’s hand tighter.

Kid nodded. “That’s when he left. He didn’t know what he was fighting for anymore. Who was to say that grisha were superior to ordinary people, after all, if their own leader was a phony and a traitor?”

Something cold was growing in Maka’s heart. The institution to which she had entrusted her childhood, her life, was suddenly rotten to the core. Rather than valor and patriotism, she saw a parasite gnawing through her world. 

“But why would Arachne have soldiers sent after her own sister?” Soul asked. “Do they not like each other or something?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Kid shrugged. “Dad’s stories always gave me the idea that relations between them were somewhat tense, but he never offered any details.”

“Or maybe Soul and Maka were meant to be more test subjects for her,” Crona offered quietly, causing a chill to run down everybody’s spines.

“Unpleasant, yes, but possible,” Kid said. “But more importantly right now: how closely was she following you when you met Tsubaki and came here?”

“We lost her when we escaped over the side of the mountain,” Maka said, “which will have set her back at least a little bit. But I don’t know much about how witches travel—she could be far behind, or…”

“Or not far behind at all,” Kid finished, nodding. “We’ll prepare for her either way. Whether you three are trustworthy or not, I still have a score to settle with this witch. I’ll fetch Tsubaki and Black*Star, and let Liz and Patty know to look out for Medusa.”


	8. Chapter 8

“I’m in,” said Black*Star when Kid told him of their plan to defeat her. 

The eight of them were gathered at the base of the tower.

“Honestly, it worries me that she hasn’t caught up and found us here by now,” Soul said. “What if that means she’s bringing backup?”

“Backup? Like…kishin?” Crona said, their eyes widening in fear.

“Unfortunately, we’ll need to prepare for that,” Kid said.

“Crona, back in Medusa’s lair, were there any other test subjects besides you and Ragnarok?” Maka asked them gently. “Soul and I only saw those two rooms, but there had to be more, right?”

Crona looked at their feet. “There was the little one, and some others. I wasn’t allowed near them, usually.”

“’Little one?’” asked Soul.

“The little one was Medusa’s first kishin,” Crona explained. “She tried to make me kill it, but I couldn’t. It was so little…of course, when it grew up, it wasn’t little anymore. It looked like a big dragon. Besides that, there were only three others.”

“Look on the bright side, guys!” said Tsubaki. “Between us we’ve got four powerful weapons, plus all of our grisha skills. We may not have an easy victory, but it’ll be a victory nonetheless, I’m sure of it!”

“A lovely speech!” came a drawling female voice from above. Medusa had found them—standing on a dark, arrow-shaped disk, she floated through the thick clouds where she had been hiding.

Crona floundered against the side of the tower, their face a pasty portrait of terror.

“Meet my lovely friend, Vector Plate,” said Medusa. “She’s ever so helpful in times like this, when I need to sneak up on irritating children from above.”

“Everybody run!” said Black*Star! “I’ll hold her off while you get off the tower—quick, Tsubaki, transform!”

Liz, Patty and Ragnarok all changed to weapon form in a unified blaze of colored light. Above them, Black*Star was combining Tsubaki’s versatile weaponry with his own Inferni skills, and the result was impressive to say the least. 

“Man, Black*Star and Tsubaki are really something,” Soul breathed. 

“Yeah, but we need to be ready to back him up,” said Kid. “He’d never admit it, but he seems to be getting tired.” He shot a bullet straight past Medusa’s head, and she turned to look down at him. 

“Hey, Kid, what’s the big idea?” Black*Star shouted. “You interrupted my big show!”

“Sorry, Black*Star,” Kid replied, “but even supporting roles should get a line or two. Come down and face the rest of us, Medusa! But be warned—my father taught me a lot about taking down witches.”

“Your father? …Oh goodness, yes, I see the resemblance now!” Medusa threw back her head and laughed. “Your father was a joke, child. We all called him ‘Lord Death’ because of how serious and obsessed with rules he was! I heard he deserted, too. Such a coward.”

Kid gritted his teeth and cocked both guns. “My father was not a deserter! He left the army because they gave your wicked sister a promotion instead of punishing her for the damage she caused. He lived a good life once he was free of grisha influence—his only regret was that he never got the chance to take you down for good!” He shot straight at the witch’s heart, and she retaliated with a storm of arrows that pinned him to the ground. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and swore. 

“Damn it!” Black*Star yelled. “I already hated you, Medusa, but depriving a man of his revenge like this is low, even for a witch!” But just as he raised Tsubaki in the air to attack, he too was struck down by Medusa’s arrows. 

“Incidentally, my Crona isn’t the only one here with teammates…I’ve brought some friends with me to join in on the fun as well…though mine are actually useful!” Medusa raised her arms in the air, beckoning three enormous kishin out of the clouds. 

Soul threw out his hands, fingers splayed wide even as they trembled with the strain of his powers, face tense with concentration. Medusa’s hands suddenly dropped to her side like wilted flowers. Kid and Black*Star broke free from her arrows and leapt back to their feet. 

“It’s hard to pose like a megalomaniac when the blood in your arms stops flowing, huh?” Soul called to Medusa.

“Yahoo!” Black*Star shouted, running toward the other end of the castle. “Kishin, over here! Let’s see what you think of my all-star powers!”

“We’ll take care of the kishin,” Kid said, running after Black*Star. “You three, Medusa’s all yours.”

Maka steeled herself. “Right. It’s our turn,” she said to Soul and Crona. 

“Three at once,” Medusa drawled, “and one of them my own dear Crona. I’m disappointed in you, child.”

“I don’t care.” Crona’s voice cracked, though they tried to speak boldly, and their hands shook as they clutched the hilt of Ragnarok’s weapon form.

Medusa grinned wickedly. “I’m looking forward to watching you three slide about in the mud while I stay nice and cozy here on my Vector Plate.”

Soul raised his hands again, fingers crooked, and sucked away Medusa’s coordination. Her Vector Plate disappeared in her surprise and she fell to the ground. 

Maka lunged at Medusa, who’d recovered her magic just in time to block the scythe and weaken Soul’s control over her at the same time. They struggled, slipping dangerously on the wet ground, and soon Maka was pinned down. Soul and Crona screamed her name in unison. 

Medusa laughed, her powerful shields blocking Maka’s attempts to use the small gusts of wind to push her away. “It’s sad, isn’t it? The way you spoke so bravely before, I expected a tough fight. But you’ve disappointed me, little girl.”

“Leave her alone!” said Crona, stepping forward. They were holding Ragnarok with both hands, clutching him in front of their body as if he were more a shield than a weapon. 

“Or what?” their mother laughed. “You’ll cower like a bunny rabbit and say ‘Yes, Lady Medusa! Whatever you wish, Lady Medusa?’ Please.”

“Not this time, La—I mean, Medusa!” They lunged forward, forcing Medusa to somersault away from Maka rather than be run through with Ragnarok. 

Maka sprang to her feet, ready to help Crona, but Soul put out an arm to stop her, understanding Crona’s need to finish this alone. They fought, mother and child, souleater clanging against black Vector arrows. 

“You should be thanking me, Crona,” Medusa said, dodging Ragnarok once again. “Without the hard work I did on you, you wouldn’t be able to fight nearly as well as you do.”

Crona’s face quivered. 

“You’re a part of history, my dear!” Medusa continued. “My black blood experiments will lead to a revolution! Together we’ll all overthrow the grisha’s rule and build our own empire in its place!”

“You’re a monster,” Soul spat. “Replacing a corrupt empire with a downright evil one isn’t progress in any way.”

“Evil?” Medusa laughed. “’Good’ or ‘evil’ doesn’t matter, as long as we’re invincible. I’m trying to help people like poor Crona, who are born weak and stupid. I’ll be giving them a chance to live a good life! You of all people should understand, little boy. I thought I recognized you before, but now I’m sure of it—you’re the original! The failure! I put black blood into you and your body completely rejected it. I nearly had to kill you before you finally retained the materials! No wonder you seem so opposed to my master plan!”

“I’m opposed to it because it’s sadistic, Medusa,” Soul growled as Crona danced out of Medusa’s reach. His hands started glowing dangerously—the wrath of a heartrender was brewing. 

Medusa’s lighthearted confidence was waning fast and her smirk had faded to a look of pure malice. “Vector storm,” she said, raising her hands in preparation to strike both Soul and Crona to the ground when a lucky gust of wind crossed the moor and threw icy raindrops across their cheeks. Suddenly Medusa was on the ground, pinned down by the air Maka had harnessed just in time. 

“You’re welcome,” Maka said to Soul, taking a dramatic bow. “Now get your revenge, heartrender.”

“Don’t mind if I do, milady,” said Soul, artfully flicking up his sleeves with his glowing fingers. He cracked his knuckles, then looked back at Medusa. His hands clenched into fists, face hardening with determination, and Medusa’s expression went slack as her heart stopped.


	9. Chapter 9

Ragnarok blew a raspberry at Medusa’s body. “Good riddance,” he said. 

Crona sniffed, and a few tears leaked out of their eyes. “Yeah,” they said quietly, “good riddance.”

“Three kishin souls are in the bag! Yahoo!” Black*Star cheered, coming up behind them. 

Tsubaki emerged from weapon form. “Actually, they’re in my body,” she said with a smile. 

“And ours!” said Liz, ruffling Patty’s hair. “One soul for each weapon—a perfect battle!”

“Liz!” Kid said harshly. Everyone’s eyes fell on the witch’s corpse. 

“Damn,” said Black*Star. “Who finally finished her off?”

“All three of us,” said Soul. “Crona was especially awesome.”

Crona’s face burned a bright red at the compliment as they smiled sadly, before they suddenly broke down sobbing. 

“Crona!” Maka cried. 

They hiccupped. “I-I’m sor—ry, Maka! I d-don’t want to cry but…I—I—I! Cant…s-stop!”

Maka put her arms around Crona, and Soul put his arms around both of them, and they hugged tightly as the rain lightened to a drizzle and the sun appeared lazily over the distant mountains. 

~Epilogue, two months later~

“Damn this season,” grumbled Soul, shaking melted snow out of his hair like a wet dog. 

“At least it finally stopped storming,” said Liz.

“But during the blizzards it was harder for us to be spotted,” said Kid. 

“And the constant snowfall covered our tracks,” Maka added. “Are you all sure that we shouldn’t just wait until spring?”

“Spring is muddy,” said Black*Star, “and besides, they’ll never expect us at this time of year! It’ll be the ultimate ambush!”

“But at what cost?” Liz said. “Ow! Patty!”

Patty giggled, having nailed the back of her sister’s head with a snowball.

“Patty, stop goofing off!” Kid hissed. “We’re almost there!”

“Better transform, everyone,” said Maka. Tsubaki, Liz and Patty melted into weapon form. Soul turned to wink at Maka before transforming as well. After the ordeal with Medusa, he’d agreed to team up with Maka as her souleater.

Ragnarok was already transformed—it seemed like he was a sword more often than a corporeal being these days. Everyone took this as a good sign: Crona was moving on from their past, slowly but surely. It seemed to Maka that they were growing stronger, standing taller, and fighting with more resolve every day.

The grisha barracks rose over the horizon, looking like rotted black teeth against the gray-blue early morning sky. Maka shivered against her will. This place that had been her home such a short time ago now seemed evil, infested with filth and corruption.

Soul’s face appeared in the smooth metal of his blade. “Hey. This is a good thing. We’re going to beat Arachne’s people and save the other grisha. Right?”

Maka managed a smile. “Right,” she said, elbowing him back.

“They see us!” said Kid.

“Aw, yeah!” Black*Star cried. “This is gonna be my biggest show ever, I just know it!”

“Not quite, Black*Star,” said Crona. “It’s Maka and Soul’s show this time.”

The curtain rose—Maka raised Soul into the air, his blade glinted against the sunrise, and the stage was all theirs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) I wrote this based on some amazing art that @arialis did on tumblr, you should totally check it out, it's beautiful! They were a great partner for Reverb, besides being a kickass artist they also basically acted as a beta reader for me and really helped me out with the writing, so yeah go over to tumblr and give them some likes/reblogs, they deserve it <3


End file.
